


the whole world turns blue

by heyitsathrowaway



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: ANYWAY............, Dom/sub, F/M, Praise Kink, how to deal with your crisis of faith apparently, this takes place right after episode 24 of WiH and has some spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsathrowaway/pseuds/heyitsathrowaway
Summary: Hella needs stability, and Hadrian needs direction. They help each other out.





	the whole world turns blue

**Author's Note:**

> my new fandom niche is apparently 'people hooking up in the topgallant'???
> 
> anyway stay tuned for something tragic to happen to joss this in two weeks

As a group, they stumble back to the Topgallant. Hadrian is too dazed to pay much attention to anyone else. Once they get there, he sits down heavily at a table on the far side of the room. There's so much to be done--he has letters to write and--surely there are other things--

What he has to do is decide. He has to make a choice. And he doesn't know how. 

Hella slings herself into the chair across from him and sets down a drink. Hadrian peers at it. He has no idea what it is.

"Drink," Hella tells him. "Trust me, you need it."

Hadrian drinks. He winces, the alcohol burning all the way down his throat. 

Hella is watching him with narrowed eyes. "I have some liquor from back in Rosemerrow up in my rooms," she says. "It tastes pretty good. You look like you could use something stronger." 

It's a terrible idea. Hadrian follows Hella up the stairs. 

Hella's rooms are cold. She busies herself lighting a fire in the grate while Hadrian stands in the center of the room, unsure of where to go. He keeps fiddling with his collar, expecting to find the clasp of his cloak there. If he still had it, he would draw it and its warmth closer around his shoulders. Instead there is only his armor. 

After the fire is lit, Hella digs around in her pack and produces two tin cups and a flask. She pours generously, and hands one to Hadrian, before flopping back down on her bed and throwing an arm over her eyes. She still manages to take a drink without spilling any of it.

Hadrian drinks, and paces, and tries his best not to think about anything at all.

After a while, Hella starts laughing, her shoulders shaking with it. Hadrian stares at her.

"Come on," she says. "This is ridiculous. Get over here." She sits up and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her. 

Hadrian sits down and clasps his hands between his knees. Hella bumps his shoulder, and he looks up at her.

She squints at him. "This is really not my area," she says. "All of this. Gods, underground cities, trying to make you feel better--it's all a little much, isn't it?" 

"It's not what I expected, no."

Hella makes a frustrated noise. "I just want to _do_ something. Get my feet on level ground."

"I...don't know that I'd recognize level ground even if I saw it, anymore."

Hella sighs. She takes one last swig of her drink and sets it down on the floor, and then swings herself over to straddle Hadrian's thighs. 

"Hey," she says, when Hadrian startles. She tilts his face up so that he has to look her in the eyes. "This is what I know how to do. Okay?"

"Yeah," Hadrian says, closing his eyes. His heart is hammering beneath his armor, but he feels a bone-deep calm, more so than he has in weeks. "Okay. Just--I can't--can you--"

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," Hella says. Hadrian can hear the smirk in her voice. "I'm in charge, I know." She's taller than him, sitting like this, and he has to tip his chin up to meet her when she kisses him. 

Hadrian presses his palms flat on the bed beside him. Hella has one hand curled tight in his hair and the other against his jaw, moving him where she wants him and kissing him hungrily. Her fingernails scratch at his scalp and Hadrian gasps, fingers curling.

Hella bites sharply at his lip and pulls back, slowly. Hadrian opens his eyes, breathing in shallowly. He can feel the color rising to his cheeks. Hella grins at him and tightens her hand, tipping his head back. Hadrian blinks at the ceiling as Hella makes a mess of his neck, his breath hitching when she bites down. There are going to be marks, in the morning. 

Hadrian is only able to think of the next day for a second before Hella presses a sucking kiss just below his ear, and then he can't think of anything but the present, of Hella's weight across his lap and her mouth against his neck. 

When Hella leans back, she runs her thumb down the trails of bruises she's left on Hadrian's neck, face intent. Hadrian shivers. It feels good, to have a mark so mundane and human. One that he knows will fade just the way he expects it to.

Hella may be Hella, but she's reliable as dirt. Hadrian knows her. If she betrays him, it will be in a way that Hadrian understands. He trusts her for that, and for this.

Hella kisses him on the mouth one last time before she stands, hands going to the hem of her shirt. "Armor off," she says briskly. It sounds like she's giving marching orders. "And the rest of your clothes." She nods towards the corner of the room where her own armor sits. Hadrian folds his clothes neatly and studiously ignores Hella's blade, safe in its sheath. It doesn't matter right now. What matters is Hella, sitting on the bed and waiting for him, already naked. She has one leg tucked up and her head resting on her knee, watching him. She's smiling, a little. Like she's having fun. Hella hasn't smiled much, since she got back from Nacre.

Hadrian goes to her without thinking, dropping to his knees on the floor. Hella blinks at him and then laughs, warm, and she winds her hand in his hair again. "You're beautiful," Hadrian says. It comes out like a prayer. She is, her skin littered with pale scars, memories made flesh. Nothing hidden. 

"You know, I could get used to this," Hella says, stroking his hair lightly. "You can touch me."

It isn't phrased as an order, but Hadrian takes it as one. He runs his hands up from the tops of Hella's feet to her calves to her muscled thighs. He leans forward and up so that he can press a kiss just above her navel, hands stroking up her sides. She lets out a breath when he mouths at her breast, cupping the other in his hand. 

"You've got nice hands," Hella says absently, leaning back on her own and watching him. "Don't knock sword calluses, huh?"

Hadrian dips his head to kiss her stomach again, a flush creeping up his neck. Hella hums, considering, and wraps her hand around the nape of Hadrian's neck, urging him downwards. Hadrian almost moans at the taste of her, warm and alive under his tongue. 

"Fuck," Hella says, her voice going low and gravelly, digging her nails in against his neck. "Fuck, _fuck_ , you're good at that--" and she breaks off, crying out instead.

Hadrian knows that the noises Hella makes are sincere; he recognizes the sound from nights spent out on the road, Hella and Adaire entertaining themselves in the next tent over while Hadrian ignored them, eyes shut tight. He'd had other things on his mind. Now it's the only thing he can focus on: Hella hot against his mouth and her moans in his ears. His cock is aching, heavy between his legs, but that doesn't matter either. What matters is Hella, her hand in his hair guiding him where she wants him, her voice telling him he's doing so _well_. Hella can't stop moving--every so often her hips jerk forward and she curses. Hadrian finds the right way to swirl his tongue against her clit, the way that makes her tense up and shudder and dig her nails in harder. He's always loved doing this. It's the purest form of worship that he knows. 

" _Yes,_ ," Hella says, and her hand pulls tight as she grinds against his face. She comes on a gasp, nearly silent. 

Hadrian rests his head against her knee and watches her recover, her chest rising and falling quickly, her head lolling back. His cock throbs. Hadrian presses his hands to Hella's thighs, sweeping his thumbs over her skin. 

After a few minutes, Hella lets out a breath, running a hand through the mess of her hair to get it out of her face. "Come up here," she says. Hadrian stands, only a little stiff, and climbs onto the bed beside Hella.

At her direction, he lies on his back. Hella takes his hands and presses them down above his head, and Hadrian doesn't move them when she sits back. Hella hums approvingly. 

She runs a finger up the length of his cock, eyes intent on his face as he gasps. Hadrian has to shut his eyes, his hands gripping each other as Hella teases him with light touches. He's leaking by the time she wraps a hand around his cock, and even then she keeps her strokes slow. Hadrian bites his lip and thrusts up against her hand. 

Hella presses her hand against Hadrian's stomach, holding his hips down against the bed. "Stay still," she says, keeping the movement of her hand steady. Hadrian swallows, his mouth dry, and when Hella moves her hand up to brush against his chest, he doesn't move.

"Damn," Hella says, her voice a little breathy. She twists her wrist, and Hadrian digs his nails into his palm.

Hella touches him for a little while longer, enough to bring Hadrian to the edge but not enough to tip him over. Hadrian moans when she lets him go, high-pitched. He has to fight to get his breathing under control. Hella reaches up to touch his hands, squeezing them until he lets go. He open his eyes. Hella is grinning, firelight dancing across her skin. She's the most amazing thing Hadrian has ever seen, he thinks muzzily. If he was able to sort out his lips and tongue properly, he'd probably say it.

"Here," Hella says, and she pulls Hadrian up, positioning him so that he's kneeling on the bed, palms flat against his own thighs. "Watch me." She lies down against the sheets. "And don't touch yourself, alright?"

He watches Hella as her eyes slip closed. She's stretched out on the bed, one leg pulled up and a hand between her legs, moving in slow steady circles against her clit. Hadrian can't decide whether he wants to watch her hand or her face. His skin feels tight and his pulse is pounding between his legs. Hella curls her fingers and gasps, moans out a few breathy _oh_ s as she keeps touching herself. 

"Please," Hadrian says. He only realizes when it comes out hoarse that he's hardly spoken all night. 

Hella opens her eyes, blinking up at him. She raises her eyebrows. _Go on._ "I want to touch you," Hadrian says, helpless against it.

Hella laughs, her breath hitching on a gasp halfway through. "Hadrian," she says, spreading her legs wider. "Of course you would be sweet _now_. Here. Kiss me."

Hadrian plants a hand in the sheets beside Hella's head and does. Her kisses are messy and uncoordinated and all consuming. It feels like kissing an open flame. Hella takes one of his hands and guides it between her legs. She's wet enough that it's easy to press a finger into her, and she grinds down against it, her hand still moving on her clit. He fucks her like that, Hella moaning against his mouth. She leans her head back, offering Hadrian her neck, and he kisses her softly there, eyes on her face. He sees her mouth drop open and her eyes screw up tight as she comes, shaking against his fingers.

" _Really_ good hands," Hella says, more to herself than anything else. She wipes her own hand on the bedsheet, but she sits up and takes Hadrian's wet fingers into her mouth. The matter-of-fact way she does it is almost too much. Hadrian whines. 

Hella gives his fingers one last lick, and grins at him. "Alright, alright. On your back."

She doesn't tease him this time. Instead, Hella wraps a steady hand around his cock and leans down. "That was really good," she says, her tone conversational. "You did so well, Hadrian." Hadrian gasps. His eyes feel hot, tears prickling against his eyelids. He can't get enough air.

Hella keeps talking to him, rubbing her thumb under the head of his cock, her breath hot against Hadrian's ear. He bucks his hips up and comes, his knuckles going white in the sheets. 

"Mm. Good," Hella says, kissing him on his slack mouth. 

He stays there for awhile, catching his breath, while Hella cleans up and stokes the fire. 

"Is it okay if I stay here tonight?" he asks. His voice is still a little rough.

Hella shrugs, and stretches. She grins when she catches Hadrian watching her do it. "'Course. Bed's big enough for two." 

She holds Hadrian close, that night, hand stroking through his hair, sleeping the sound but light sleep of a soldier. Hadrian closes his eyes and rests his head against her collarbone. He leaves his choices for the morning.


End file.
